


wherever you are is where i'll stay

by turnitoffmckinley



Category: The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: BOM 10 Day Challenge, High School AU :), M/M, Mentions of Sex, Minor Arnold Cunningham/Nabulungi Hatimbi, Underage Drinking, discussions of past non consensual experiences., discussions of suicide???, its rlly tame i promise, minor McBladeley, minor churchtarts, minor unrequited Pricingham, this is longer than i meant it to be and extremely mcpriceley centric ahhhh uhhhhhh enjoy???
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:53:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23731888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnitoffmckinley/pseuds/turnitoffmckinley
Summary: Weirdly enough, Kevin hasn’t had a single hell dream since he started dating Connor.Before, oh sure. He got plenty of dreams haunting him regarding a certain maple-glazed donut adventure. Even before Connor he had terrible dreams when Arnold told him he was bisexual-- dreams that Kevin would never dare tell his best friend about. But this feeling for Connor was stronger. Stronger than any urge to eat a late night donut snack against his father’s rules. Anything stronger than his feelings towards his best friend-- platonic or not. This was different. This was the most powerful feeling Kevin had ever felt in his life.It was dizzying, it was terrifying. It had a name. Maybe, it was just three words.Now includes a secondary epilogue chapter :)
Relationships: Elder "Connor" McKinley/Kevin Price
Comments: 9
Kudos: 36





	wherever you are is where i'll stay

**Author's Note:**

> BOM challenge day 1 -- “he squeezed it so tightly it broke”
> 
> This is a light rewrite of a highschool AU @elderxprice and I wrote in I think 2016? Anyways in this AU everyone goes to high school together and Kevin & Connor went to church together as kids. I think this is kind of dumb but I hope it’s a little bit cleaner than what we wrote like 4 years ago lol. Enjoy? Hopefully? uihifnjasdfasdhfasjhbfasfdasjfhjaskdfa ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
> 
> Also this got way longer than I meant for it to be? Whoops. I didn’t mean for this to be fic length but it got out of hand. I reiterate this is so extra and dumb and extremely mcpriceley centric but like, enjoy.
> 
> Also I wrote it on google docs so copying it over has officially ruined the actual formatting. I am so sorry in advance. I know it looks garbagey but somewhere underneath the weird spacing there is a fic.

Linoleum tile looks hideous against LED lighting.

He hates it in school, he hates it in church, and he most certainly hates it in the Temple bathroom. The walls are white, the floors are white, the ceiling is white and flecked with tar-colored specks that are, if anything, even more aggravating to look at. The sinks are white, the lining of the mirrors are white, and Connor’s shirt is also unmistakably white, so pale it blends into the paleness of his skin. Not that Kevin is looking.

This is the third time in a row on a Sunday that Kevin has followed Connor into the bathroom mid sermon. Connor pukes his guts up, and Kevin looks away and tries to plead with him to tell him what’s going on while simultaneously trying to avoid getting a migraine from the blinding, flickering LED light fixtures above their heads.

“If you’re um, drinking, while it’s not really my place to judge you, I am obligated to remind you that that’s a sin—“

“I’m not!” Connor insists, sniffling and wiping his eyes on his sleeve. 

“Okay.” 

Kevin pops his tongue, sighing and trying to keep his composure. He’s tried everything at this point. Empathy. Unabashed kindness. Tough love. Sternness. Gentleness. Nothing seems to get Connor to crack and spill what’s going on, and as a good mormon who’s known (at least, has been friendly with) Connor for years now, it only seems right for him to offer a helping hand. At this point, he’s invested and obligated to help Connor regain a sense of well-being.

“I want to help you,” Kevin implores, “but you won’t listen to me.”

Silence. Connor splashes water in his face, taking in a shaky breath. Their eyes meet through the mirror for just a moment. Connor’s blue eyes are tinged with red. He’s been crying. They both quickly look away.

Kevin continues, stammering with a reddened face, “But um, if I can’t help you, will you at least listen to God? He wouldn’t judge you. Can I pray for you?”

He really wants to tell Connor he won’t judge him either, but for some reason, it feels false— whatever Connor’s dealing with seems to be out of the span of what Kevin’s capable of handling. He has a funny feeling he knows exactly what this is, too.

He buries that deep down, and instead bows his head.

“Uhm— right, so. Heavenly Father, I come before thee to uh— ask of you to please Bless Connor with the strength to bear his burdens, and be able to face each day knowing he is loved by You and by all of Your children. And that—“

“I’m okay.” Connor abruptly announces. He dabs at his blotchy, tear soaked face with paper towels. 

Kevin takes a step back as Connor brushes past him to throw the paper towels away, but before he can exit, for reasons inexplicable to himself, he grasps at Connor’s wrist. His fingers wrap around the boy’s arm a little more tightly than he normally would.

“Wait!”

Connor  _ flinches _ at the contact, and Kevin immediately lets go, as if he’d grabbed something hot off the stove. He swallows harshly, feeling something weird twist deep down.

“Connor, you don’t have to pretend that everything’s okay with me. I mean, you just cried in the Temple bathroom.”

“I don’t know what you mean, but thanks for the concern.”

With a little flicking motion of his wrist, Connor sighs and then perks up. Kevin scrunches up his face in confusion.

“What is that?”

“Nothing.” Connor chirps, “It’s off now.”

“ _ Off _ ? Connor, what—“

Connor does that thing he’s done every single time. He beams that bright, sunny, dead-eyed smile.

“I’ll see you in Chem tomorrow, Kevin,” Connor says, and this time, Kevin lets him go. Dumbfounded, Kevin stares back at himself in the mirror. His brow is furrowed, his cheeks are red. He touches them with his fingertips.

That is the last time Kevin Price sees Connor McKinley in church. 

.::.

Rumors spread very fast around Provo, Utah.

Connor McKinley was already a rare bird in the Church. He didn’t go to Church with his single mother, in fact, every Sunday he went with his ailing grandparents. His younger sister, born out of wedlock allegedly, also did not go with him.

Kevin Price never really saw the problem with it that his parents did. Connor was always super polite, and the only boy in church as devout and honestly, as parallel in intelligence to Kevin. He excelled in Sunday School and never seemed to carry any baggage with him. Extremely polite, extremely happy.

Until he was not.

Noah Neeley whispers about “that fairy” at the Church picnic thereafter.

“His father has never been around, I heard that kid is a queer like him.”

“I heard he failed out of the program his grandparents put him in to keep him close to God, what a shame,” Eric Schrader replies, “Poor guy.”

Scooping up a slice of apple pie, Kevin asks politely, “Excuse me, what program?”

“Oh, whoops,” Neeley replies, “I’m sorry, I forgot you two were friends.” 

“Not really.” Kevin says, because it’s true. They were friend-ly, but not friends. Now that the school semester is out, Kevin hasn’t seen him much. But he’s heard plenty.

“His grandparents? They sent him to a church-mandated therapy program. He had all sorts of issues. I guess he flunked out of it.” Eric Schrader supplies.

This is news to Kevin.

“Oh gosh,” Kevin stammers, “Well. That’s a shame. He was nice.”

“He was probably only nice to you because he was like, totally into you,” Neeley laughs, “What a faggot.”

“That’s probably not true, you shouldn’t say that!” Kevin says.

“What, are you a  _ fag— _ “

“No! What the heck, guys?”

Neeley holds up his hands in response to Kevin’s outburst. Schrader grins maddeningly.

“Relax, Prude Price. We’re joking.” 

For the first time in a long time, Kevin feels perhaps just as sick as Connor must have felt. He doesn’t sleep well that night at all.

.::.

That fall it becomes increasingly apparent that what Neeley and Schrader said may have held some unfortunate truth to those words, because the new Connor McKinley is a whole other person.

Connor McKinley, 17 year old valedictorian-to-be is absolutely, unapologetically “gay” now, almost so much that Kevin Price doesn’t recognize him when he walks into AP Environmental Science the first day of class. Even worse, because of their last names, their class-assigned seats are right next to each other.

The desk smells strongly of floral cologne and of alcohol, and Connor has a bright pink polo shirt on. His fuchsia backpack is no better, covered in pins of varying sizes with phrases on them like, “Theatre geek” and “PRIDE” and “GAY AF”. Kevin’s stomach does a backflip.

He’s dead silent as he takes his seat, slowly removing his required textbooks for the class.

After a few moments the silence is unbearable. Does Connor feel as uncomfortable as he does? Connor appears to be texting underneath his desk.

“Um. Hey.” Kevin says, breaking the silence. Connor doesn’t look up.

“Hey, Connor.” he repeats.

Connor’s head snaps up. Their eyes lock. He looks tired. He coolly opens his textbook and immediately averts his eyes.

“Oh hey, Kevin.”

“Hi.” Kevin repeats, “Um. So we’re partners.”

“For the rest of the year.” Connor says, “So how’ve you been?” 

There’s an edge of  _ something _ in Connor’s voice. 

“I’m fine.”

_ I hope you are, too. _ Kevin wants to say. Instead, he says:

“I miss seeing you on Sundays.” 

Whatever little semblance of respect towards Kevin still within Connor seemed to fade away at an instant. The corner of his lips sink further down.

“Mm, I don’t. Miss the Church. Actually, I have a boyfriend.” he says.

Kevin’s eyes widen. He blinks in surprise.

“Oh.” he says.

Connor’s clearly testing him.

“If we’re lab partners the whole year will that be a problem, Kevin?”

There’s something weirdly condescending in Connor’s voice, enough for Kevin to raise an eyebrow.

“Uhm, no. I mean— I, I can’t support that lifestyle but, I don’t mind you and I’m sure he’s uhm- nice?”

Connor rolls his eye at Kevin’s stammering.

“Good to know.” he says, and goes back to texting.

Kevin starts scribbling in his notebook.

“I’m not homophobic. My best friend Arnold— he’s bisexual. And he doesn’t go to Church anymore either.”

Connor hums. He doesn’t seem to be paying attention. So Kevin repeats himself.

“I’m not homophobic—“

“Okay.” Connor says, “Got it the first time, don’t get your panties in a twist.”

The lord must be testing Kevin and his patience. He thinks, ‘There must be a reason He put me here, right now, as Connor’s lab partner. Maybe I can still help him.’

At the end of class, he at least attempts to speak to Connor again.

“I do miss you, Connor. Look, maybe you can still be welcomed back—“ Kevin says, but Connor hardly gives him a second glance.

“Right, right. See you tomorrow.” Connor says, and hurries out the door like someone struck him with lightning.

.::.

[ **Kevin** ] am I homophobic?

[ **Arnold** ] why?

[ **Kevin** ] yes or no

[ **Arnold** ] Buddy I don’t think so.

[ **Kevin** ] ok

[ **Arnold** ] did someone call you that?

[ **Kevin** ] no

[ **Arnold** ] is there something you wanna tell me?

[ **Kevin** ] no! I’m not gay

[ **Arnold** ] ok 👍🏻

[ **Kevin** ] I’m not

[ **Arnold** ] no prob

[ **Kevin** ] i’m not gay.

[ **Arnold** ] ok pal ✌🏻 i’m gonna go back to star wars then

[ **Kevin** ] ok. so don’t think this is weird pls. but... got anything on Connor McKinley’s boyfriend?

.::.

Turns out they are lab partners for the rest of the year. The look of disdain on Connor’s face is one that Kevin Price will never be able to erase from his mind. Even worse, they have to work on a huge final project.

And turns out Connor McKinley’s mysterious new boyfriend is the football captain himself, Steve Blade. 

It’s hard not to notice when your lab partner is making out in the parking lot with him  _ constantly _ . Before school, after school, during  _ lunch _ . And what’s even worse is the fact they have virtually the same friend group, the few friends Kevin has, so now he always has to see it.

It also turns out that Connor isn’t the only gay person in their friend group. Christopher Thomas and James Church begin dating pretty soon thereafter, and aren’t subtle about it. With Arnold out of school with the flu, Kevin’s only choice is to sit across from them while they make out, almost adjacent to Connor out in the parking lot, just barely in view, doing virtually the same thing. 

James Church flicks a wadded up napkin at Kevin’s head when he catches him staring.

Connor’s lips are pressing against a big, blonde, muscled football player named Steve heckin’ Blade. The way his eyes sparkle. How tight his jeans are. Kevin’s been grinding his jaw until the napkin makes a pitiful collision with his cheek.

“Hey!” he grumbles.

“Quit staring, it’s rude.” James says.

“Probably bothers little bible boy, here. Maybe we should make out some more?” Chris supplies.

“I’m not homophobic, I don’t care.” Kevin growls back. James chuckles.

“Then are you jealous?” James suggests. His face turning red, Kevin rubs a hand across his cheek.

“No. I just hear that Steve Blade is bad news.”

“Oh, he is.” Chris says, “he’s a player. On and off the field.”

“Then why is Connor with him?” Kevin exasperates, “Instead of working with me on our big project?”

“Oooooh,” Chris teases, “a big project.”

“Shut up! It’s 50% of our grade.” Kevin groans.

“Why don’t you text your boyfriend and stop worrying about Steve Blade?”

“Hey, where  _ is _ Arnold?” James says.

“He has the flu. Again. And he’s not my boyfriend. We’re best friends.”

Chris shrugs.

“Sure, same difference.”

“No! Not same difference!”

Kevin sighs irritably and closes his lunchbox.

“Look, you two know I’m not judgmental of you. At all. I just want to make sure Connor’s okay.”

“Why do you care?” James inquires, genuinely intrigued. He raises his Caprisun to his lips. 

“Because he was my friend.” Kevin says, “And then he just stopped coming to Church. And now he’s with— someone ya’ll said is a jerk.”

Silence. And then, Chris snorts, barely holding back his laughter.

_ “Ya’ll.”  _

Kevin stands up abruptly.

“Forget it, I’m out of here. Enjoy your lunch and your PDA.” 

.::.

“Look best friend, I don’t see why it bothers you so much.” Arnold says. He’s eaten almost the entire bag of Orville Popcorn. 

Kevin has hardly paid attention to this episode of Star Trek, instead consumed by his ramblings about Connor and their partnered assignment.

“I just want him to be okay.”

“Is this because he’s gay?” Arnold chuckles, “Because he seems okay to me.”

“Gosh, why is everyone obsessed with how gay he is? I’m not! He was just, really upset the last time I saw him and I just want everything to be okay for him.”

Arnold looks at him. 

“Then why don’t you ask him?”

Kevin doesn’t know why he can’t answer that, but he grabs a handful of popcorn and elects to ignore him.

.::.

The walls around Connor McKinley seem to break down a little each class, and for the first time, he and Kevin are on the same page. It’s stupid, but it’s over a conversation about how much they adore their younger sisters. 

Connor’s sister Maggie is a little younger than Kevin’s sister, Debbie, and a scrabble addict. 

“I have to warn you, I am also a whiz at scrabble.”

“Is there anything you’re not good at?” Connor snorts, but there seems to be a little amusement under his tone.

“Well I’ll have to show you sometime.”

Connor laughs, then, genuinely. Kevin feels a little funny, like a little lost for words, maybe? 

“My mad scrabble skills, that is. You should introduce Maggie and I.” Kevin continues.

Connor rolls his eyes, and Kevin thinks he’s about to say “As if.” But he doesn’t. He just grins and replies, “Sure. Fine. We can work on our project at my place. If you aren’t gonna try and convert my ‘heathen family.’”

_ But I want to know why you chose this life over the Church, _ his mind supplies, but he buries it down.

“I won’t. It’s a deal.” Kevin says.

He extends his hand out. His lab partner is struck dumbfounded, as if he’d never held a hand before. Kevin is suddenly reminded of the last time their skin made contact, in the church bathroom, with his fingers delicately wrapped around Connor’s wrist and how weird he’d felt. He wonders if Connor felt that weirdness too. Or if Connor even remembers that.

“I don’t bite.” Kevin promises.

Connor laughs again. And then shakes his hand. For a moment all Kevin can focus on is Connor’s smile, and how soft his lips look.

He doesn’t know why he’s looking there.

After a pause, Connor pulls his hand away and returns to his classwork. He must have felt something, and now there’s uncomfortable silence. The redhead has a sort of knowing smile. Kevin shifts uncomfortably.

“What about Monday?”

“Family home evening,” Kevin replies, much faster than he intended. Connor “hmphs”. 

“That won’t do. I have drama club on tuesdays and wednesdays, so thursday?”

“I have track tuesday, wednesday, thursday.”

“I have a party on Friday.” And then Connor sighs.

“God, we’re so busy.” 

“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain.” Kevin says unthinkingly.

“Prude!” Connor teases, “Fine. Maybe I can make some time on Friday.”

“Promise?” 

“My boyfriend might get jealous I’m bringing another guy over.” 

“Well, then he’s stupid,” Kevin huffs, “because I’m straight.”

Connor tilts his head, and for a moment Kevin trains his gaze on a hickey on Connor’s throat. It looks extremely fresh. He gulps.

“Then I promise. Lighten up, lover boy.” Connor says, and clasps Kevin’s hand again in a shake of finality.

.::.

If Kevin’s good at anything besides being devout to Heavenly Father, it’s track. He holds the record for his category at the school, has gone to State twice, and has a heck of a lot of medals.

When he spots a familiar head of auburn hair sitting in the bleachers one October evening, he’s thrown momentarily. Connor seems to be smiling. Is he looking at Kevin? 

Kevin, momentarily dazed, stares back, and then waves.

And then he realizes stupidly that Steve Blade’s team is practicing on the other field. 

When he turns his back, embarrassed, he misses Connor waving back. 

.::.

Maggie  _ is _ better than Kevin at Scrabble. At age 10, she wins her third time in a row.

Kevin finds himself looking forward to Fridays at Connor’s more than he’d like to admit. He’d always been morbidly curious about his life but seeing it all put into perspective is doubly weird.

Connor’s room is very —-  _ pink _ . His bed has too many throw pillows and he has a High School Musical poster on his door, as if he’d never left 2008, which Connor snaps is because of his crush in Zac Efron. The drapes have flowers on them and there are many candles on Connor’s dresser. Oh, and a box of cigarettes, because Connor sins in  _ that _ way too now.

“You’re gonna give yourself lung cancer,” Kevin chastises dryly as Connor digs out his laptop and drapes himself across his magenta duvet.

His lab partner makes a face, lighting a cig and drawing it to his lips. After a moment, he makes eye contact with a very uncomfortable Kevin. Kevin makes a face back. Connor rolls his eyes, propping himself up with his pillows.

“Open a window and make yourself at home,” Connor snorts, before inhaling. Kevin looks away, drawing his attention back to Connor’s collection of trinkets.

There’s many,  _ many _ pictures of Steve and Connor together, including some of them as young kids. Kevin hesitates. He knew Connor at this age too. Why didn’t he try to get to know him better? 

Wait, why does he care? 

His eyes settle on an aging picture of someone who looks almost just like Connor. Freckles, red hair, blue eyes, but it’s definitely been around for a while.

“I didn’t know you have an older brother.” Kevin says.

“No, that’s my dad.” Connor says plainly.

“Oh. Huh.”

“Are you just like everyone else, curious where my daddy issues come from?” Connor chuckles, “Oh, god, I should’ve known.”

“No! I wasn’t gonna ask.” 

“Sure. I’ll tell you, then.”

“You don’t have to, honestly.” Kevin says, earnestly. But a little voice inside him is dying of curiosity, dying to know every intimate detail of Connor’s life. And he feels  _ guilt _ for it.

Connor blows smoke right in his face, chuckling when Kevin coughs. He doesn’t even look him in the eyes, just goes for another long drag.

“I’ve never met him. My mom used to be Mormon, you know that much. But in high school she fooled around with a hot foreign exchange student and boom! Here I am. Do you need the wifi password by the way?”

Connor gestures dramatically, cigarette pinched between his fingertips and then shifts uncomfortably. Come think of it, Connor’s mom was  _ much _ younger than Kevin’s. So much that Kevin had noticed but declined to comment.

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I don’t need him.” Connor says, “Look how swell my grandparents raised me. Really were  _ loving _ and  _ accepting _ . Where are they now?”

Kevin wrings his hands, before digging through his book bag for his textbook.

“Um. I’m really sorry, Connor, truly.”

Connor gives him a look. Kevin decides it’s maybe better not to mention going back to Church now. The boy in front of him might light him on fire like that stick of cancer between his fingers, and Kevin really wants to go to Cornell, so... that’s not an option. 

“My dad sucks.” Kevin admits, “He’s... not a model parent like everyone says.”

“Well, at least you have one.”

_ I wish I didn’t. I wish I could tell you that. _

“A-anyways, you and Steve.”

Connor throws his head back and laughs.

“Oh my god, is this an interrogation? No officer, I don’t have any booze on me right now.”

Kevin throws his hands up in exasperation. Connor laughs and sits up, criss-cross on his duvet and rests his cheeks in the palms of his hands, studying Kevin with amusement and curiosity.

“Sorry! I don’t want to upset you, I just saw the pictures and—“

“Childhood sweethearts. Cute, isn’t it? Wanna actually do our homework, champ?”

Connor licks his lips. Kevin stares. No, he’s not staring.

“I didn’t know you two had history together.”

Connor turns, snuffing out his cigarette in an ashtray on his nightstand, which is littered with cigarettes. For a moment, Connor’s sweater sleeves slump down, and Kevin sees the trace of something blackened around the rim of his wrist. His eyes widen and without even thinking, his reflexes kick in and he gestures to his wrist.

“Um—“

Connor glances at it, and then shrugs, tugging up his sleeve.

“My bad.”

“Did he do that to you?”

Connor rolls his eyes.

“We get rough. Why do you care?”

“I care if you’re being abused!” Kevin exclaims.

Connor laughs so hard he almost falls over, actual tears forming in his eyes.

“You are so vanilla.”

Kevin’s face burns red.

“I don’t find being beaten funny. Seriously, I want to help you.”

He’s been slapped too many times by his father to  _ not _ find the humor in times like these. Connor seems completely unfazed.

“Oh, sweetie. Steve doesn’t hit me,” Connor chortles, “no, no, no. He tied me up.”

Kevin slaps a hand over his mouth.

“That’s horrible.”

“I kind of liked it, though.” 

“Oh, by Heavenly Father,” Kevin mutters, “So he kidnapped you.”

Connor lays down on his bed, barely able to conceal his giggles.

“Kevin Price, you’re hysterical or just stupid—“

“You and I are gonna be valedictorian and salutatorian so I’m not stupid—“

“Did your parents opt you out of sex ed?”

“No.”  _ Yes. _

“Mm hmm. Sure. Well then, Steve and I had sex—“

Kevin covers his ears.

“I don’t want to hear this, our bodies are Temples for Heavenly Father.”

“You are a Prude Price! Remember when everyone called you that? Oh my god. Prude Price.” 

“Stop it!”

Kevin thinks he may be sick.

“Prude Price!” Connor repeats, “Don’t ask if you don’t want to know, honey.”

Yep, he’s gonna be sick. 

He hardly makes it to the trash can, lurching over as he throws up. Connor’s laughing stops at an instant, and instead his hands are on Kevin’s back, rubbing circles into his shoulders. He smells strongly of smoke and that lavender cologne. It’s kind of intoxicating. Dizzying. Kevin grips the rim of the trash can like his life depends on it.

“Hey,” Connor says, “Awe geez, I’m sorry Kevin. I thought you knew these things.”

Kevin doesn’t reply, but Connor’s hands rubbing his back feels oddly comforting, even if he’s mad at him for  _ ruining _ his body. 

“Stop smoking. It makes me nauseous.” he growls.

Connor lets a short snicker escape again, but quickly tones it down.

“Okay. I’ll stop around you, promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” Kevin warns.

“Okay.” 

Connor removes his hands, and for a moment, Kevin craves them to return. But instead, he blots at his mouth with a tissue, feeling queasy and embarrassed.

“Got a mint?” he croaks.

.::.

Fall becomes winter, and Kevin’s life revolves around Connor McKinley’s antics.

They become friends in the most unlikeliest of ways. Maybe because Kevin doesn’t believe Connor that Steve isn’t abusive (he’s seen the way Steve talks to him and it makes Kevin sick), maybe because he likes his company, or maybe because Kevin’s only other real friends were Nabulungi and Arnold and being the third wheel to their shenanigans wasn’t always all that fun. In fact, it could be painfully lonely.

Connor’s mom tells Kevin he’s a good influence on her son. “I just don’t know about that Steve boy,” she says, and jokes that if Kevin were gay, she’d want him to date Connor with how much her son talks about him. Kevin feels a little bit of a weird pride in the fact that  _ he _ commands so much of Connor’s attention, and that Connor’s family likes him more than Steve.

He even catches himself at the fall musical, Les Miserables.

“Less miserable.” Kevin admonishes, “I can’t believe I’m at a musical for Connor McKinley. Did Steve even bother coming?”

“Why do you care so much whether or not Steve came?” James snickers, “Jealous?”

“No! I’m not.” Kevin says a little too harshly. Their friends are staring.

“It’s Les Miserables.” Nabulungi corrects, “It’s french for The Miserables.”

“I know. I will just be less miserable when it’s over.” Kevin says.

Chris flicks him in the ear. —“ _ Ow _ !”

“That’s what you get. Support your friend.” Chris says.

Connor McKinley is exceptionally talented. His Marius is basically the only thing that Kevin can pay attention to. His voice soars above anyone else at this high school, let alone the state of Utah, and he finds himself entranced.

“Hey, he’s pretty hot, huh?” Arnold whispers.

“Uh huh.” Kevin mutters, not paying attention, “Yeah.”

Arnold grins to himself, and then leans in and whispers to Nabulungi, who whispers to Chris, who whispers to James, and then soon there are four pairs of eyes trained on Kevin whose gaze is settled intensely on a certain redhead. After a few moments and goosebumps later, he notices these stares.

“Huh? What?”

They all giggle, and Kevin feels his ears grow warm.

“Pay attention to your friend,” he mocks, “so y’all need to do it, too.”

“Okay, pal.” James says with a knowing grin, “You do that and we’ll do that.” 

.::.

[ **Connor** ] can you call me

[ **Kevin** ] family home evening

[ **Connor** ] steve cheated on me.

For the first time in his life, Kevin finds an excuse to break family home evening to go to Connor’s house. 

“Arnold is having a family emergency.”

It takes a lot of convincing, but Kevin gives a truly oscar-worthy performance to get out of his home. His father is visibly disappointed in him but for a moment Kevin is able to look past it, because Connor called  _ him _ and no one else and Connor  _ needs _ him.

He picks up Almond Joys on the way over, and Connor’s mom immediately lets him in the door.

“He’s been crying for hours,” she frets, “Oh Kevin, you’re such a sweet boy.”

Connor has holed himself up in his bathroom, sobbing his eyes out and curled up beside the bathtub with nothing but a pink t shirt and a robe on. Kevin kneels to his level, awkwardly reaching to touch his shoulder.

“Hey, I brought you Almond Joys.”

Connor looks up at him, his eyes as red as they were that day in the bathroom years ago, when the LEDs were bright and he never told Kevin what was wrong. But maybe that’s because he wasn’t ready. And now this time, Kevin knows, and Kevin feels weirdly... accomplished? Heavenly Father put him there for Connor so one day he could be there for him. And here is that moment.

Connor throws his arms around Kevin’s middle, squeezing him tightly for a hug. It nearly knocks the wind out of the brunette, and for a moment, he panics, not knowing what to do. But then he lets his arms settle around Connor’s shoulders and one hand gently on the nape of his neck. He strokes his hair tenderly, letting the panic subside as he just holds his friend gently.

“It’s going to be okay, Connor. I promise it will be okay.” 

And that’s all he can say. He strokes his fingers through his hair soothingly, and hopes that tomorrow can be a better day.

.::.

Connor and Steve are back together the very next week.

Kevin tries not to be annoyed. Chris shrugs at lunch and says they do this every month. Kevin tries, and fails, to conceal his disgust as Connor holds Steve’s hand out in the parking lot and laughs at something stupid Steve says, probably and will  _ probably _ have sex with him tonight and for some reason, that really, really bothers him.

“I could never date a cheater. He deserves better,” Kevin says. Arnold pushes his glasses up his nose, cocking a grin before Kevin cuts him off before he can even speak.

“I’m straight, so no.” Kevin says. Arnold shrugs like Chris and stuffs an apple slice in his mouth, saying nothing and yet everything at once.

.::.

“I’m having an end of the semester party.” Connor tells him in class, slapping a sticky note with a date, time, and his address on it into his palm.

Kevin looks at it dumbly.

“I know where you live.” he says, sticking it onto his church-print planner.

“It feels more official when it has an address on it.”

“This is a post-it note, Connor.” Kevin says. Connor gives him a hard eye-roll. 

Kevin feels that his gaze is very trained on all the freckles on Connor’s cheeks and immediately looks away.

“Kevin, please come to my party,” Connor says. His eyes are sparkling. Are they sparkling, or just really, really blue? In a Disney movie they might be sparkling.

“Um. You know I don’t party—“

“Kevin!” 

There’s a slight whine, a tease in Connor’s voice that shoots straight down to his stomach. No one has said his name like  _ that _ before, what the heck.

“Okay, okay, jeez! You’re such a bully, you know that, right?”

Connor beams.

“Well, I want my best friends to be there. And you’re my friend, Kevin. Right?” 

Oh, that feeling in his stomach again.

“There’s no alcohol, right?”

“Right, captain.” 

“Will Steve be there?”

“Duh.”

He wants to keep an eye on Mr. Football Star and the way he treats Connor. Kevin sighs.

“Okay, fine. It’s a date. NOT A DATE.” Kevin clarifies, feeling his face flush like a ghost, “Oh heck. Not a date, not—“

“Got it, Kevin. Thanks.” Connor chirps.

Kevin stares at the sticky note in his planner, and especially the “KEVIN :)” on the top in Connor’s funky, curvy handwriting.

For the first time in months, has a bad feeling about Connor McKinley.

.::.

There is a lot of alcohol at Connor McKinley’s house, and Maggie and Ms. McKinley are definitely not home.

The house reeks of beer, and while it isn’t packed, Kevin recognizes nearly everyone here. It’s almost the entire cast of Les Miserables, many of whom Kevin assumed would be too—-  _ geeky _ ?—- for this sort of occasion, but apparently not. With his fingertips he fidgets with his collar, biting his lip anxiously as he searches for Connor.

“Here, Prude Price!” 

Christopher Thomas shoves a Budweiser into his hands. Kevin looks at it with horror.

“I’m not drinking.”

“Prude—“

“Where’s Connor?”

Chris points to the kitchen, and Kevin doesn’t wait for more commentary as he hands the pint-sized blonde the beer back and then trudges into the kitchen to search for Connor. It doesn’t take him long, his friend tends to be the brightest star of any space in the house.

And the man of the hour turns and waves the moment he locks eyes, very visibly drunk.

“Kevin!”

Connor himself is in an outfit his mom certainly would not approve of. A tight-fitting tank top and shorts that leave literally nothing to the imagination. Suddenly Kevin feels both overdressed and out of place in his sweaters and slacks. He’d told his mom it was a small group bible study. 

He shimmies his way over to Kevin and grasps his hand tightly.

“Maria, this is  _ Kevin _ !” Connor gawks, “he’s like, practically my new best friend.”

“Hi Kevin,” she greets, very overtly flirtatiously. Kevin’s stomach does a backflip. She’s also clearly drunk. 

Connor is holding his hand tightly, drinking a shot of  _ something _ . Kevin is painfully aware of how Connor’s leaning onto him. He feels warm again. Suddenly he has the urge to pull Connor aside and just... he doesn’t know? Make sure he lies down or something to sleep off the alcohol. That’s clearly what this feeling is. Totally.

“She’s single, Kev. And so are you.”

Kevin squeezes his hand back tightly.

“Aaactually, Connor, I think we should talk.”

“We are talking.” 

Connor pushes a finger against Kevin’s chest, grinning from ear to ear. That prompts Kevin to drag him aside, muttering an apology to this  _ Maria _ (which Connor loudly protests) and gently check in on him.

“Hey, where’s Steve?”

Connor shrugs, giggling.

“Dunno. Hey, want a drink?”

“I’m Mormon.”

“You’re young and stupid and should have fun.” Connor babbles, sliding down against the wall.

“Hey, hey, hey—“ Kevin helps him back up.

“Maybe you should call this party off? You don’t look too good.”

“ _ You _ look real good.” Connor giggles, “I could eat you up if I were single—“

Alright, that’s enough.

“That’s it.” Kevin says.

“Kevin?” Connor hiccups. His eyes suddenly loom very big and very round. 

And then Kevin shouts, “SOMEONE CALLED THE COPS!”

.::.

In the ensuing chaos of people leaving in a hurry, Connor is mad at him. But that anger is momentary, fleeting. Because the moment Connor stomps up the stairs, half drunk, with Kevin trailing behind him to make sure he doesn’t do something stupid, he swings his bedroom door open and his anger for Kevin dissipates entirely.

And Steve is there, making out with some girl. To Kevin in this moment neither offender has a name or a face. But Connor does. And Connor’s face is empty.

Connor squeezes his shot glass so tightly it breaks. It breaks into little pieces, little shards of glass that literally cut his skin. He holds his hand up, numb, and Kevin sees the blood dribble between his fingertips before Connor fully collects what’s happening and then lets out a bloodcurdling  _ scream _ .

Steve shoves the girl off of him in an instant, who slaps him, and then come the excuses and Connor is in hysterics, and to Kevin it’s all a blur but Connor throws a punch and then Kevin grabs his arms and drags him, kicking and screaming into the bathroom where the redhead collapses in a puddle of drunken tears.

Kevin barely is able to drag him, sobbing and struggling towards the bathtub so he can rinse his hand under the faucet. He watches as the tub splatters with red droplets and tries not to feel queasy as he tries to reason with Connor to wrap his hand with toilet paper since he isn’t coherent enough to remember where his mom keeps the First Aid kit.

“Ar y’ mad at me?” Connor whimpers, in a voice absolutely pathetic. There is blood on Kevin’s sweater from where Connor tried to shove him away. 

“Why do you date that guy?” 

Kevin immediately gets accusatory, and then feels bad when Connor shrinks down, looking like a lost puppy. He sighs, and then brushes Connor’s hair back with his fingertips.

“Come here. You deserve better, okay? You’re so nice. Stop dating that jerk.”

He squeezes Connor into a hug, just as his friend falls apart in tears.

“Mm’srry,” Connor whimpers, “Kev’n, y’r the best.”

“It’s okay. Hey, don’t cry.”

And then Connor pulls his head off of his friend’s shoulder and stares at him long and hard. His mouth opens and closes in a tiny “o”. Kevin stares back, about to ask “what?” 

But Connor closes the gap between them, cupping Kevin’s face with his undamaged hand and kissing him, hard. 

Kevin hiccups into the kiss, startled by the intrusion of their lips locking together. Part of him feels the instinct to pull away— this is dirty, sinful, bad— but that feeling in his stomach swells and then shoots through him like a flame. He moans unexpectedly, and Connor takes it as permission to just start using tongue.

Connor tastes like smoke and beer and candy, all three he must have had in the past hour. Kevin leans into it, and finds his hands sliding up and down Connor’s back almost mechanically. Connor also then moans, and bucks his hips.

“Kevin...” the boy whispers.

That’s enough for Kevin to snap back into reality and pull away.

“Woah.” he says. He doesn’t find any other words to say.

Connor smiles, and gushes, “I’ve wanted to do that forever.”

“You’re drunk.” Kevin says, “Oh, gosh.” 

He feels his own arousal creeping up on him, and Connor must, too, because he slides his hand down to Kevin’s pants. Kevin reflexively grabs Connor’s wrist.

“No,” he says, eyes wide, “No way.”

Connor flinches. Oh, Kevin hates that he flinches.

“You don’t want to do that.”

“I wanna do it, I’m sober! Look!” Connor moans, painfully turned on at this point. Kevin shakes his head.

“I have church in the morning.”

Cruddy, but true, excuse. His mind is racing. He’s never been kissed, this is wrong, bad! And yet... Connor looks as scared as he is, but hopeful. This is weird. This is frightening.

“I won’t tell anyone.” Connor says, desperately, waggling his hips as if that’d turn Kevin on. It does, but he wouldn’t say so.

“You’re really drunk. I think I need to help you lie down.”

“Please do.”

“Connor, not like  _ that _ . Can you even stand?”

He can’t. Kevin sighs and helps him, letting Connor lean heavily on him all the way to his bed, which both collapse onto in a heap. Connor immediately reaches again for Kevin’s belt buckle, and Kevin practically has to wrestle him into the covers.

“You can’t consent.” Kevin repeats, “Connor, you can’t consent.”

He’s not sure if he would even let Connor do anything to him  _ sober _ right now. This is new and frightening.

“I am consenting!” Connor insists again, but he loses his resistance fast. Instead, in a tired heap, he just cries. Kevin sits there, dumbfounded, and lets him cry it all out.

“Stay with me?” Connor begs him. 

Kevin nods, his throat feeling tight.

“I will.”

He lays there next to him, letting Connor clutch his shirt and cry sloppy wet tears into his sweater until his breathing evens out and his grip loosens. It’s only 30 minutes until he’s asleep, snoring gently in his sleep.

Kevin, wide eyed, watches Connor’s chest rise and fall before he untangles himself from the boy’s arms. Connor doesn’t stir.

He leaves at exactly 2AM, Sunday morning, and sneaks back into his house through his bedroom window. He’s certain he’ll be in trouble, and yet, no one stops him. His heart pounding in his chest, he closes his eyes and waits for his own body to let him sleep. Instead, he traces his lips with his fingertips, remembering the ghost of Connor’s lips there just hours before and feels ashamedly sinful.

.::.

[ **Connor** ] I’m so sorry, Kevin.

[ **Kevin** ] Are you feeling any better?

[ **Connor** ] can we talk about last night

[ **Kevin** ] no.

.::.

He prays very hard that Sunday morning in Church, on his knees, until his knees aches. He pauses in the Temple bathroom, remembering a phantom of Connor hunched over the sink, sobbing, and maybe for once, Kevin understands what made all of this so hard. What Connor couldn’t tell him then.

He wants to take his fist and smash the mirror into pieces, but instead finds himself staring at the outline of his temple garments under his shirt.

.::.

He gets approved to join the Mission Training Center. For the first time in his life, Kevin’s father tells him he’s proud of him.

Kevin feels like a fraud. He smiles, wolf in sheep’s clothing, and feels nothing but immense guilt and shame.

.::.

He hasn’t spoken to Connor all winter break. He’s avoiding him like the plague, even when his friends ask him,  _ plead _ with him to at least tell Connor they’re okay. But to tell the truth, Kevin doesn’t know if they’re okay. It’s not until Connor seemingly unfollows Steve Blade on all social media that Kevin feels the finality is there for him to send a message.

[ **Kevin** ] Merry Christmas.

Silence.

The next day.

[ **Kevin** ] I miss you.

[ **Connor** ] Me too.

[ **Connor** ] can we talk

[ **Kevin** ] anything but that night.

[ **Connor** ] :(

Kevin does not respond again.

.::.

“You can’t avoid him forever,” Arnold says during gym.

“Oh yeah?” Kevin says a little too loudly, and decks his opponent in the face with a dodgeball. 

He saw Connor talking to Steve today. It filled him with something he could not explain.

Well maybe he could.

“Watch me.”

.::.

[ **Connor** ] please talk to me.

[ **Connor** ] kevin?

.::.

Connor won’t make eye contact with him anymore. His last quiz grade slipped from an A to a B, which is alarming in and of itself, but Kevin can’t feel himself compelled to speak to him, to ask what’s going on. Instead he drifts through each school day and track meet like a zombie. All he cares about now is his mission. But Connor looks so… sad? Kevin hates that. 

He hates even more that he’s a coward, who hides away from Connor on purpose, because he doesn’t want to talk about the truth. He doesn’t want to talk about his feelings, because those could take away his mission. He worked his  _ whole life _ for that. And now?

Who even is he now?

.::.

[ **Arnold** ] I’m just saying Kevin, James had a talk with Nabulungi who had a talk with Chris who had a talk with Connor

[ **Kevin** ] and why should i care

[ **Arnold** ] I just want to make sure that nothing happened

[ **Kevin** ] I told you we didn’t have sex.

[ **Arnold** ] He’s really upset. He said he crossed some lines

[ **Kevin** ] he kissed me, that’s all.

[ **Arnold** ] oh so he didn’t take advantage of you?

[ **Kevin** ] no, we didn’t even do anything. He kissed me and he was drunk and i made sure he got somewhere safe ok?

[ **Arnold** ] that’s it?

[ **Kevin** ] what do you want me to say

[ **Arnold** ] Connor kissed you

[ **Kevin** ] yeah?

[ **Arnold** ] buddy, that’s huge for you.

[ **Kevin** ] I don’t know what I am! Gosh, can yall stop pushing me to be something?

[ **Arnold** ] I just want you to be happy, buddy.

[ **Kevin** ] I am happy just the way I am!

[ **Arnold** ] are you though?

.::.

Connor slaps a post-it note onto Kevin’s side of the desk in AP Environmental Science. Kevin ignores it. Connor grabs another sticky note and slaps  _ that _ next to it. Finally, Kevin rolls his eyes and reads it. 

_ I’m sorry. What do I have to do to fix this? _

_ Please talk to me. It’s making me really sad. _

Kevin rips a sheet out of his notebook and begins curating his response furiously, huffing as he writes in big, bold letters:

_ I don’t know! Please stop asking. _

Connor sniffles, wiping his eyes on his sleeve, and for a moment, Kevin feels really, really bad. Connor starts jotting something down on another sticky note.

_ I’m sorry I ruined your life. _

Kevin snatches back the piece of paper and scribbles down yet another response.

_ You didn’t. I just don’t know how I feel right now, okay? I will talk to you when I want to talk to you. _

Connor buries his face in his hands. Oh, great. Kevin sighs.

_Please don’t cry._ _I hate it when you cry._ He jots down, and then underlines it several times. 

Connor doesn’t speak to him the rest of the class.

.::.

[ **Kevin** ] what was it like.

[ **Connor** ] wym?

[ **Kevin** ] leaving the church. You never told me why.

[ **Connor** ] can we talk in person about this

[ **Kevin** ] ok

.::.

He picks Connor up in his mom’s van and makes him promise not to smoke in it. Connor doesn’t even question where he’s going. Actually, neither of them speak the entire car ride, watching the trees and hills of Utah roll by for at least an hour.

The spot Kevin takes him is almost desolate, off a dirt path separated from the highway. Everything is flat and there is a clearing where Kevin can back up the van and open up the rear of it.

“Help me set up?” Kevin says. It’s the first thing he’s said to Connor since greeting him with “hello” when he got into the van in the first place.

He has a picnic blanket that he spreads out across the back of the van, and a basket that he’s made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in. For a while they sit in silence, eating sandwiches as planes glide by overhead.

“My dad used to take me here as a kid. It was our thing,” Kevin says, “It’s by the airport.”   
  
“Gathered that much,” Connor says, looking utterly spellbound and lost all at once. Connor was always contradicting himself like that. Maybe that’s what Kevin likes so much about him. He’s always a mystery.

“You never told me why you left the church.” Kevin says, and then shamefully admits, “I got accepted for my mission.”   
  
Connor looks at him briefly, but his eyes flit away. Neither can bear to look at each other very long, not like this.

“You know why I left the church.”   
  
“I can guess why all day, but I don’t want to assume anything about you,” Kevin says.

“Because I couldn’t bear it anymore.”   
  
Connor lays back against the picnic blanket, and rests his hands on his chest contemplatively. Before long, Kevin does the same, their heads only inches apart, watching the clouds roll by lazily above them intercut with the trails of planes swimming through the air like graceful smokey ballerinas. 

“You could always come back.”   
  
“You’d be there.” Connor says.   
  
“I know.” And then, “Oh.”   
  


“Exactly.”

Connor smiles, tilting his head over to look at Kevin.

  
“I know you’re straight, but I really, really like you Kevin. I have for a really long time.”   
  
Kevin smiles back, a little shyly, but also filled with guilt.

“I’m Mormon.”   
  
“I know.” and then, “Oh.”   
  
“Exactly.”

Connor laughs. And then Kevin laughs. And then Connor looks a little sad.

  
“You’re going on a mission.” Connor says, “Fuck.”   
  
“I don’t know what I am, Connor.”

He reaches for his hand and squeezes it. After a moment, Connor squeezes back. He has dimples beside his lips. He looks like he may cry. Kevin hates to see him cry. So he closes the gap in between instead.

It’s sunset when they drive back, but Connor is resting his head on Kevin’s shoulder, and for a while, he feels weirdly content. Scared, but content. Because maybe, he knows what he is now. And it’s scary. But comforting, to stop asking himself what kind of person he is.

.::.

He keeps finding more and more excuses to spend time with Connor in the following spring months, because graduation is right around the corner and Kevin realizes that only two days after, he goes to his mission training center in Salt Lake and then that’s it.

Kisses, never in public. Always in Connor’s bedroom. Texts are always discreet. Hand holding only if they’re in the back of the class. And Kevin won’t do much more with Connor, bedroom or otherwise, no matter how Connor expresses his  _ adoration _ for him, he won’t do it. It feels wrong.

Arnold smiles at him almost knowingly when he sits across from Connor at lunch, and Kevin can’t help but elbow his best friend in the hip.

“Your face is gonna freeze like that,” Kevin mutters.

  
“I’m just happy for you.” Arnold says.

Kevin rolls his eyes, but grins. Connor looks up, his eyelids fluttering as they smile at each other like two lovesick idiots.

“Ugh, get a room.” Chris laughs, and then all of them are laughing, laughing at their  _ dirty little secret. _

.::.

Connor sprawls out across Kevin’s lap, reading a book on  _ deciduous plants in northern america _ like the boring sort of academic he is, while his  _ boyfriend _ strums tiny ministrations through those red locks he adores. Connor peeks his eyes out from just below the cover, grinning as he finally catches Kevin’s attention. He waggles his brow. Kevin snorts.

“Should I adopt a female pen name for wherever your mission sends you?” Connor says, “I think Charlotte would be a good alias.”   
  
“Charlotte is a turn off.” Kevin teases.

“Oh yeah?”   
  
“Look, can we talk about something else?”   
  
“I thought you’re excited about your mission.”

_ I’m not excited to be leaving you behind. _

  
“Yeah but-- I want to focus on now, okay?”   
  
“Okay.”   
  
Connor closes the book, and sits up to catch Kevin’s lips with his own. 

He settles himself in Kevin’s lap as their kissing turns a little more urgent, a little more fervent. Connor looks at him expectantly, with that silent question of  _ now? _ Kevin shakes his head no, and continues to kiss him like his lips have never felt anything else before.

.::.

Weirdly enough, Kevin hasn’t had a single hell dream since he started dating Connor.

Before, oh sure. He got plenty of dreams haunting him regarding a certain maple-glazed donut adventure. Even before Connor he had terrible dreams when Arnold told him he was bisexual-- dreams that Kevin would never dare tell his best friend about. But this feeling for Connor was stronger. Stronger than any urge to eat a late night donut snack against his father’s rules. Anything stronger than his feelings towards his best friend-- platonic or not. This was different. This was the most powerful feeling Kevin had ever felt in his life.

It was dizzying, it was terrifying. It had a name. Maybe, it was just three words.

.::.

  
“I love you.” Connor says. 

They’re out on a canoe in the middle of Utah Lake for their environmental science project when he says it. 

Kevin isn’t sure what to say back, there’s a lump in his throat.

But Connor isn’t judging him. He grasps Kevin’s hand and says, “It’s okay if you don’t.”   
  
“I do.” Kevin blurts out, “I just don’t know how to say it yet.”   
  
Connor beams, his eyes scrunching up at the corners like he’s going to cry. And Kevin finds that maybe this is what he’s wanted his whole life. Just him and Connor. Connor, all to himself, and he thinks, isn’t this nice? And he says it, and Connor nods.

“It is nice. More than nice. I feel lucky.”   
  
Kevin kisses him in the car, and he feels like something that once was missing, is now complete. 

.::.

Steve Blade is holding a picture to his face. Steve Blade has cornered him in the gym locker rooms. Steve Blade has a picture of Connor and Kevin kissing, in Connor’s window.    
  
“Break up with him and tell him to get back with me, or I show your parents.”   
  
Kevin’s blood runs cold.

  
“You-- you’re sick, there’s something wrong with you, that’s not me.” Kevin says.   
  
“I think it is.” Steve says, “And I’m sure your parents will love to hear your explanation for this.” Steve says, “Aren’t you going on a mission soon? Wouldn’t they disown you if--”   
  
“Why are you doing this?”

Pricked with tears, Kevin swallows harshly, “What’d I do to you? What- why would you-- if you care so much about Connor and his life--”   
  
“I want  _ my _ boyfriend back, what do you not understand?” Steve says.

“You cheated on him.”   
  
“Well, I have to have someone to prove to Point Foundation that I’m like, inspirational. And truth be told, Connor has a much harder life than I do, so, me saving his life is a better example.”

Kevin feels disgusted. His whole body wracks with nausea.

“You’re horrible to him. You are absolutely horrible, he isn’t a doll, Steve--”   
  
“And what is he to you? A free kissing booth? How about how you made him go over the edge?”    
  
“What?”

Eyes wide, he watches as Steve laughs at him, and then slams a hand beside him in the lockers. Kevin whimpers, flinching as Steve leans in real close.

  
  


“He tried to kill himself, last summer. You wouldn’t leave him alone, kept pestering him about the church--”   
  
“No, no, he didn’t, he would have told me, that’s not--”   
  
“You drove him over the edge, Kevin Price. It’s  _ your _ fault. And he’s probably even more suicidal now that he’s fucking you--”   
  
“We’re  _ not _ \--”   
  
“You fuckin’ Mormons,” he chuckles, “You nearly killed that poor kid and now what, do you think you’re saving him? Think you’re somethin’ fucking special? Well, you should feel responsible. I saved his life, I was the one who was there for him. I brought him out of nothing, he has me to thank. Unless…?”   
  
Kevin sobs, pawing at his eyes with his hands, feeling like he may throw up. Everything was wrong, wrong, wrong, and he was panicking and he felt blurry and dazed.

“Stop it, please!”   
  
“Then break up with Connor or next week, I will show this to your parents.”   
  
“Okay, okay!” Kevin cries, breaking down, “I will break up with him. I’ll do it.”   
  
Steve smiles and pinches his cheek before giving it a rough pat, infantilizing him. Kevin hiccups and sobs, wrapping his arms around his waist.

“Good boy. Hey, you gotta train ‘em, right? Have fun on your mission, you made the right choice.”   
  
He pauses on his way out, looking over his shoulder.

“And Kevin?”   
  
“What?” Kevin chokes out.

  
“Thanks for doing the right thing. Maybe now Connor won’t try to kill himself over you again.”   
  
Kevin’s left all alone, his face as red as blood, which he scrubs furiously with soap and water afterwards, hoping to rid himself of the hatred for himself that washes over him in this moment.

.::.

Connor has no idea what’s about to happen. 

Kevin is right there. He’s right there, ready to do it. Day one after the confrontation with Steve.

And he can’t.

  
He can’t look Connor in the eye, knowing,  _ wondering, _ screaming inside over the fact that he now knows the truth about what happened to Connor last summer. And he hates himself for it.

Is he selfish? For keeping Connor here?   
  
“Hey. You okay?” Connor asks, tracing his thumb across Kevin’s jaw.   
  
“I’m just thinking about State. Um. Track.”   
  
“You’ll get in,” Connor says, “I know you will.”   
  
“Thanks, Con.”   
  
And his stomach does that funny thing again.

  
“Uhm. Actually, Connor, I wanted to say something.”   
  
Connor looks up to meet his gaze. His pupils are almost dancing, dancing like the clouds, dancing like the planes.

  
“Yeah?”   
  
“I love you.”   
  
His eyes focus on Connor’s smile and lips and when he kisses him, he tries not to feel like the selfish piece of garbage that he is. He tries not to feel absolutely horrible as Connor finally manages to tug off Kevin’s shirt and then eventually his upper temple garment, tracing his hands across his abdomen so hungrily and so needily.   
  
“Fuck, I love you.” Connor moans, and then begins scaling down Kevin’s body.   
  
“No, wait.” Kevin says, “I can’t.”   
  
Connor rests his head against Kevin’s thigh.   
  
“That’s okay. When you’re ready, I want you.” Connor says, grinning madly, “Just want you to know that.”

Kevin does. His body does. His body wants, but his guilt is much stronger than whatever physical desire he has.

_ He tried to kill himself last summer _ rings in his head, drilling and ringing and drilling and ringing, until he struggles to even look Connor in the eye anymore. 

.::.

Day two and three and four and five fly by with Kevin’s anxiety racing. His heart thumps in his chest whenever he looks at Connor, knowing he has to do it, knowing he’s going to lose him forever, when he doesn’t want to.   
  
“Are you okay? You’re acting funny.” Connor tells him on day four, “Have you been sleeping okay?”

“No.” It’s the first time he’s been honest this entire week.   
  
“Oh, hun, I’m sorry.” Connor frets.

“Don’t be. Um. Did you try to kill yourself last summer?”   
  
Kevin’s voice breaks terribly, his eyes clouding with tears before he can even judge Connor’s reaction, because his boyfriend is looking at him with the most wild expression.

  
“Kevin, what--” 

“Was it because of me, Connor? Did I try to convert you? Did I hurt you?”   
  
He buries his face in his hands, suddenly unable to look Connor in the eye entirely. Connor makes a noise that is almost inhumane, sounding offended while trying to articulate words. Kevin can’t bear it.

  
“I’m sorry, Connor, I hate myself for it. I can’t stand to know I did that to you.”

  
“Who said I tried to kill myself?” he says slowly, before reaching for Kevin’s wrists. 

He pulls his hands away from his face. He’s not crying. He’s not angry. In fact, he looks incredibly, incredibly confused.

“I can’t tell you that,” he croaks, “They told me you attempted suicide.   
  
Connor laughs at the absurdity. 

“No? I told you what happened last summer.”  
  
“You said you were gay.”  
  
Connor shrugs.  
  
“I mean that’s kind of it.”  
  
Kevin makes a strangled noise himself, really confused and really hurt.  
  
“I have to break up with you, Connor--”  
  
“So who put you up to this?” Connor presses, ignoring that entirely, “I’m gonna guess Steve.”  
  
He pulls out his phone but Kevin grabs it faster, pulling it out of Connor’s grasp even as his boyfriend protests.  
  
“Do not text him!” Kevin cries, “Please don’t!”  
  
“Kevin, you’re acting ridiculous--”  
  
“ _HE’S GIVING PICTURES OF US_ _KISSING TO MY PARENTS._ ”

His chest is heaving, his voice strained as he gasps for breath, on the verge of an anxiety attack. Nope, it’s a full blown anxiety attack. He has no idea what happens in the next few minutes in between, because he just about blacks out. He hears Connor repeating his name, but everything’s closing in on him, and he can’t breathe-- he can’t  _ breathe-- _

He doesn’t entirely pass out, but he comes back into awareness of his consciousness with his knees against his chest and Connor’s mom having joined them in Connor’s room. She’s instructing him to breathe while Connor looks absolutely panicked beside him, holding onto Kevin’s hand like a lifeline. Kevin’s vision flickers between the two, and finally he feels the deep lull of that manic episode begin to subside until he just feels painfully aware of his own tears.

  
“I’m--”

  
“You had a panic attack, sweetie,” Connor’s mom says, brushing away a tear with her thumb, “We’ve got you.”   
  
He can’t imagine either of his parents doing this for him. Caring like this. Connor looks truly bewildered and upset.

“I don’t want to lose you, he said-- he said he’d tell my parents--”    
  
“It’s okay, Kev,” Connor says, “Hey. I’m here. We’re gonna figure something out, I promise.”   
  
Kevin nods, his breath caught in his throat, and just cries. Two sets of arms wrap around him, and he feels inexplicably safe, just in this moment, with two of his favorite people holding him tight.

.::.

A plan is agreed on for Connor and Kevin to stop hanging out in person.

At least, for the time being. Every conversation is through text, to keep Kevin in the closet and out of the way of being outed. And Steve seems content, taking Connor on a date that Connor is vastly uninterested in.

Graduation is quiet, and Steve feels like a victor, and both Kevin and Connor feel like absolute losers. Even as Connor walks as valedictorian and Kevin is not far behind as salutatorian, they are miles apart, lost in the void that is Provo, Utah, and inexplicably back to square one.

.::.

[ **Kevin** ] Are you on a date with steve right now

[ **Connor** ] I promise I’m not cheating on you.

[ **Kevin** ] I know you’re not capable of that. It’s appearances. Im sorry ur in this mess

[ **Connor** ] i love you.

[ **Kevin** ] i love you too.

[ **Connor** ] what time do you take off tomorrow

[ **Kevin** ] 8AM

[ **Connor** ] come see me

[ **Kevin** ] ok

.::.

The blinds are shut and Kevin enters from the backyard in a thick black hoodie uncharacteristically large on him (courtesy of Arnold).

Once inside and ushered up the stairs to Connor’s bedroom, his boyfriend is weary. He looks absolutely exhausted from the world, from Kevin and Steve, from Provo, Utah.

“You have fun at NYU.” Kevin says weakly, and squeezes him tight. He doesn’t let the tears fall yet, because he has Connor right now. And maybe he always had him.

“Wanna do it now?” Connor whispers, reaching for Kevin’s jeans, “While we’re still high schoolers?”

  
Kevin pulls his hands away, instead cupping his face and resting their foreheads together. Connor closes his eyes, expecting Kevin to lean in. But he doesn’t. He drops his hands, and takes a step back.   
  
“We’re not high schoolers anymore. I don’t want you to wait for me, when I go. To have a life.” Kevin pleads. 

“Okay.” Connor says, and smiles sadly, “I love you.”

“I love you.” Kevin says.

They have their good-byes, and Kevin stares at Connor in the window for a very long time, who waves to him and he waves back. Some part of it doesn’t feel real. It feels like he’s leaving something behind. His childhood? That can’t be it. Something bigger. Something more than that.

[ **Connor** ] good luck on your mission, kev.

[ **Kevin** ] good luck in college, con.

[ **Connor** ] see you on the other side?

[ **Kevin** ] I hope so.

.::.

His mission is to Kitguli, Uganda, which is mostly uneventful, mostly violent, and ends very shortly when all the Elders fail to make a single baptism in 6 months. His mission companion, Elder Green, reminds him too much of Connor for him to really focus, anyways, and after the events leading up to his Mission, Kevin finds himself both traumatized and uninspired, and honestly, burned out when he returns home a _failure._   
  
It’s all his parents can talk about, anyways, and he’s soon back in Church to _repent_ for his failed mission and starting school at BYU, no longer believing in God and having to travel to Starbucks with Arnold at _Utah State_ to just get a good hit of caffeine. No, the God was snuffed out of him when he watched a guy get shot in the face and his incompetent mission companion just turned it off and then acted like everything was normal the next day. It was mortifying, and their district leader, Elder Michaels? Another nightmare of a feelings-denying, bible bashing Mormon. Made him sick enough to call quits.

It takes him a whole  _ year _ to work hard to keep his 4.0 at BYU, but once he submits his Columbia transfer app, there’s no going back, and there’s no stopping him when he tells his parents he has a full-ride.

“You’re not going to New York, Kevin, they’re heathens,” his father disdains. Kevin laughs.   
  
“Actually, dad, I am. And you can’t stop me.”   
  
And he can’t. Disillusioned and finally disenchanted with the way his life had been going, Kevin packs his suitcases and moves into the Columbia dorms. It kind of sucks-- they’re  _ small _ and nowhere near campus, but hey, he goes to fucking  _ Columbia _ in the biggest city in the world, and somewhere in this city,  _ Connor McKinley _ must be here. 

After his first year of Columbia and two internships later, his hopes of running into his NYU-Musical-Theatre-BFA-studying-ex-boyfriend continue to deflate, further and further, even as the fantasies of romantically finding him at Central Park or at a Broadway show or whatnot continue to plague his dream world.

.::.

Every night, Kevin goes to Cha Cha Matcha. Maybe it’s his unhealthy sleep habits or his tendency to be up until 3 in the morning writing his next giant research paper. Yes it was a hipster matcha joint. Yes it was very conveniently located yet overpriced. But yes it also had really damn delicious coffee, and Kevin had become a coffee fiend.

He steps in at 7:45 every night without fail. His regular barista often had his order ready for him at this point so he could pay and go. But his regular barista wasn’t in right before closing. Instead, he was greeted with a “Hey, we’re about to close.”

  
Except Kevin knew that voice. Kevin  _ knew _ that voice. Kevin was about to shit his pants, but he  _ knew _ that voice from anywhere.   
  
“Connor?”   
  
The barista turns around, his face beet red as he recognizes Kevin. For a moment, he thinks maybe Connor might be mad or upset. But then he breaks out into a grin and  _ squeaks _ .    
  
“Kevin!?” he says, his jaw dropping. “Holy  _ shit! _ What are you doing here?”   
  
“I live around the corner, what are  _ you _ doing here?”   
  
“I work here! Why do you live here?”   
  
“I go to Columbia!”   
  
“No shit!”   
  
“No shit!”   
  
“You’re cursing!”   
  
“I fucking am cursing!” 

And he laughs, pulling Connor into a tight hug from across the counter that Connor-- thankfully-- reciprocates. They’re both grinning like absolute idiots, dumbfounded by their dumb luck.   
  
“Where’s Kelly?” Kevin asks.

“I traded shifts with her, I had an audition,” Connor laughs, “Holy shit. Are you a regular?”   
  
“I am! How have I never run into you?”   
  
“I work mornings. Fuck, let me close up so we can catch up?”   
  
Kevin gets his coffee at last-- on the house-- as Connor finishes up the closing procedures and trades his work apron for a sweater and joggers. He grins as he locks the door behind him.

“I’m so glad to see you,” Connor says, “though I thought you’d still be on your mission.”   
  
“Me too. But then a guy was shot in the face.”   
  
Connor’s eyes widened.   
  
“Holy shit, are you okay?”   
  
“I’m fine, don’t worry about me. Actually, I’m doing great. I went to BYU for a year, though, and then left the Church.”   
  
“You left the Church? Walk with me.”   
  


“I mean, I don’t live far, where do you live?”   
  
“Uptown.” Connor admits, “But we should walk through Washington Square Park.”   
  
Their stroll takes them down under the brilliant arch of Washington Square Park and through all the trees and sparkly lights. Connor both laughs and gasps at Kevin’s recollection of the past two years, it’s oddly intimate to be sharing this part of his life with the person who really kick-started him in the right direction to where he is now. There are people out and about, couples holding hands, people maybe on their first date, those who have been together for a really long time. Kevin feels like he’s in a strange impasse between the two. This is  _ his _ Connor, but they aren’t together anymore. 

  
But now it’s weirdly different. He feels at peace. He knows who he is.

He reaches for Connor’s hand and gives it a squeeze. Connor squeezes it back, and then after a few moments, leans their shoulders together, smiling and looking at him from the corner of his eyes.

  
“Hey, this might be dumb.” Kevin says.   
  
“What might be dumb?”   
  
“I kind of want to kiss you. But I don’t think that’d be appropriate if you’re seeing someone.”   
  
“Lucky for you, I’m single.”   
  
Kevin cups his face with his free hand and holds no hesitation in kissing his ex very firmly on the lips. Connor chuckles when they pull away, bopping Kevin on the nose with a fingertip teasingly. 

“You are still a bad kisser,” he says, matter-of-factly.

“Am not. You liked my kisses.”   
  
“I don’t think anyone is a good kisser in high school.” 

“Oh yeah? Who’s my competition now?”   
  
“No one.”   
  
Connor rolls his eyes and pulls him in quickly for a more passionate kiss, lacing their fingers together warmly. Kevin squeaks. Connor giggles. And then Kevin relaxes under his touch, letting Connor be the one to guide the way.    
  
“You wanna get out of here?”   
  
“My dorm is super small.” Kevin says, sadly.

  
“I live in a shoebox but I have my own room.” Connor says, “But it’s a commute. Have anywhere you need to be tomorrow?”   
  
“My internship starts Monday.”   
  
“Well.”    
  
Connor raises an eyebrow, and they’re both caught grinning at each other like two sad, horny teenagers.

“Let’s go then,” Kevin says, stepping a little closer to Connor, “Let’s get out of here.”

.::.

Connor doesn’t believe him when he says he’s a virgin. But then it becomes increasingly apparent the more painfully awkward Kevin is in bed, that he absolutely is.

  
“You sure you want to do this?” Connor keeps asking him, “I mean, I know you want it to be special--”    
  
“This is  _ special _ ,” Kevin teases, “Come on, Connor. Fuck me.”   
  


“Oh, okay, I see.” 

Connor is  _ definitely _ turned on by Kevin’s newfound assertiveness. His lips no longer taste of smoke (Kevin would learn he quit in college, and feels very profoundly proud of him), but he does taste of matcha and he still smells of that familial lavender cologne, and their clothes end up on the floor very quickly and Kevin finds himself squeezing his hands into very familiar pink bed sheets.

It’s extremely clumsy, and awkward, and a little painful at one point, but Kevin is not sure he’s ever felt as though he were in the right place before, feeling the right things, feeling alive with the person he’s supposed to be alive  _ with. _   
  
And when it’s all over and they’re left gasping and panting and cuddling under that magenda duvet, Kevin can only say, “Why didn’t we do that in high school again?”   
  
Connor smacks his arm teasingly, in a  _ you know why _ kind of way.

  
“Oh my god, I missed you.” he says, “Fuck. We definitely should have been banging sooner.”   
  
“I am, after all,  _ Prude Price. _ ”

  
Connor snickers and slides a hand down Kevin’s chest, rolling over to look at him.   
  
“Do you think you’re Prude Price anymore?”   
  
“After that. Hmm. Not sure. Maybe we’ll have to find out again soon? Very soon?” Kevin says.   
  
“Are you planning on going somewhere sometime soon?”   
  
They both look at each other a little scared, a little hopeful, but Kevin is the one to lean into his… what can they even call each other? Kevin would like to say  _ boyfriends _ , but maybe that’s too soon all over again. Maybe he’ll settle on  _ meant to be. _

  
“No, I don’t really want to be anywhere else, but wherever you are,” he says, “is where I’ll stay.”   
  
“Good. I was thinking the same thing.” Connor says, and closes the gap between them.


End file.
